


The Pledge Fic 3: The L-word

by KS_POI_Pretender_Fan



Series: The Pledge [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_POI_Pretender_Fan/pseuds/KS_POI_Pretender_Fan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>KA-BOOM! How will Zoe deal with John's supposed death? Read and find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pledge Fic 3: The L-word

* * *

**Pledge: The L-word**

She didn't remember much after she heard the bomb going off in the distance and thinking about Harold's call that morning to inform her that he had made contact with John but that he was in a precarious situation. Her first thought was that her last chance at happiness in her miserable life was gone.

She had told her driver to stop the car and she immediately got out and started towards the boom. What she thought she was going to do when she got there, she didn't know for sure. It's not like she wanted to be the one to identify body parts. She wouldn't want to remember him that way.

She turned to go home, having sent the car on its way. Her stilettos clicking against the side walk, echoing as if she were the only one on the street.

_It couldn't be him_ , she told herself.

John was a fighter; he would have found a way out of that vest.

Her breath started to come in short spurts. She couldn't take a deep breath because she thought it would make her throw up the meager contents of her stomach.

Almost home; she's almost there. She took a short breath in and stared at her shoes as she walked.

Zoe blinked her eyes against the tears pooling in the corners.

It wasn't fair. They didn't have long enough. She didn't tell him . . .

* * *

"Stay out of trouble."

John had said that to her after he had saved her life.  _Not gonna happen_  was her response. She should have said the same thing to him. He never avoided trouble, finding meaning and purpose in protecting the innocent. Even if it meant getting gunned down in a downtown parking garage by the CIA and rushed to a morgue to get sutured by a doctor not licensed to practice medicine.

It was what John did; he saved the innocent and the weak. Damn him.

* * *

"You look like a punching bag."

They were at his loft; she had just slapped an ice pack on his bruised face.

He looked at her and rolled his eyes. "It's no big deal, just a few hits to the face, I've had worse."

"You couldn't wait for backup? You and Maxine decided to just to go look for the HR book?"

"Backup did show, Carter and Fusco got there in time."

She fisted her hands on her hips. "In time to get into a gun fight."

He reached over and squeezed her hand. "I'm fine, quit worrying . . ."

"I can't help it, I just . . . I . . ."

He gave her that look that said he knew what she wanted to say but that she didn't have to say it. He knew.

* * *

"Who did you think you were? Spiderman?"

"Zoe," he sighed. He had a mother; he didn't need someone to shake her finger at him because he rappelled down the side of a building to protect Graham Wyler from making a mistake that could cost him his life. "I had the right gear."

"I didn't get you into that building so that you could throw your life away," she said, slamming her fist on the steering wheel of the Jag on their way back to Far Rockaway. She had taken charge of the car not wanting Kamikaze John to drive like a bat out of hell and get their asses splattered across the highway on the way home.

"This is what I do Zoe, you know that."

"I know John, I just worry about you. I can't help it, I . . ." she never finished her sentence.

Saving the innocent and the weak. That was John. Damn him.

* * *

She unlocked the front door to her apartment feeling lost and confused. There was too much for her to contemplate, her thoughts moving so fast that she felt lightheaded and bewildered, in retrospect she knew it was more likely due to the fact that she hadn't slept or eaten in well over seventy-two hours.

Certainly, the last thing she needed on an empty stomach was a drink. She scoffed and walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured herself a drink anyway. She shook her head and stared out the window, with the drink in her hand. She couldn't stand still.

She paced to the couch,  _Damn it, John. You were supposed to be careful_ , she thought.

She paced to the window again, it was dark outside and inside.  _Damn it, John. You weren't supposed to be in the bank. Harold told you to get out, but you had to help a vet didn't you?_

She paced clockwise in circles around her living room.  _Damn it, John. Carter got you out._

She paced counter clockwise in circles.  _Damn it, John. Why didn't you make it out alive?_

_Now it's too late to say it. Damn it!_ She whirled around and threw her full glass across the room, feeling an odd satisfaction when she heard it shatter into a million pieces. Then she wrapped her arms around herself and felt herself sliding down a wall to the floor. First one tear, and then another, dropped from lowered eyelashes to wash tracks down pale cheeks as she began to tremble. Wiping them quickly away, she tried to calm herself by going to the panic room in her head; where nothing could hurt her.

* * *

John was standing at the glass board that usually held their numbers. He turned to Harold, seated at his bank of computers.

"The hard drive tell you anything?" Reese asked staring at Kara's picture up on the board.

"Nothing yet. Whatever she uploaded, the encryption is remarkable. I can only assume that the malware it's protecting is equally sophisticated. The only thing I've been able to decompile is when it's set to go live - -a little more than five months from now." Finch replied, his gut telling him it won't be good. He looked up towards John, still at the board.

"What happens then?" John asked.

"I suppose we'll find out."

John turned around and said, "Finch? Thank you."

"Please. Don't mention it," Finch replied without looking up from the screen.

"Do we have a number today?"

"Not at the moment, why don't you take the day off and spend some time with Miss Morgan. I imagine after the events of the past few days, a little alone time is in order," Finch suggested with the smallest hint of a smile.

John started at the mention of Zoe's name. As far as he knew, he and Zoe had been very discreet about seeing each other. However, he wasn't surprised that Harold knew. "She's out of town for the next few days . . ."

Finch looked up in alarm. "No she's not John. I spoke to her yesterday . . . you mean you haven't talked to her since we disarmed that bomb?"

"No, I didn't think she was in town. Before I went into Rikers, she was flying off to Los Angeles to meet a client."

"John, you had better make sure she knows you're alive."

John took his cell out of his pocket and dialed her number. Shaking his head, "She's not answering, it's going straight to voice mail."

* * *

They hadn't seen each other for several days. Between her being in Los Angeles and his time at Rikers and then the time with Kara and Snow, it was a good week. It had taken him longer than he expected to get to Zoe's apartment from the library, calling her every few minutes. It wasn't unusual really, at this time of day, she could be at a client meeting, busy enough not to pick up.

The first thing he noticed when he walked into her apartment was her purse by the liquor cabinet and the broken glass across the living room.

"Zoe," he called out as he headed to her bedroom.

At the sound of his voice, Zoe came rushing out of the attached bathroom in her robe with still wet hair. Her eyes were red rimmed and overly bright and she looked pole axed. She had paused a few feet from John and just stared at him.

"You're just now getting out of the shower? It's almost noon, what's going on?"

As if snapped out of a trance, she stalked up to John and gave him a hard shove and a pointed finger at his chest, tried to speak, but clearly words failed her. Instead she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him to her. She then leaned into him with her forehead on his chest her arms around his waist and started sobbing.

Despite his shock, John's arms instinctively encircled her and held her to him. He wasn't clear on what was going on or what she had been thinking but concentrated on calming her down.

"Thank God you're alive." She cried into his chest.

"What? Did you think I wasn't?" John asked as he pulled back, concern written all over his face.

"I talked to Harold yesterday afternoon," she said. "He said your old CIA partner had you strapped to a b-bomb . . . Then I heard the b-boom . . . I thought it," she broke off. "I thought it was you."

"Hey, look at me, I'm okay," John reassured her.

"I thought you left me," she said so quietly John wasn't sure he heard it. "And I'm blubbering like an idiot. God, it must be the lack of sleep and food and Jesus, I'm too old for this is he alive, is he not alive. . . . and the boom, it was just, just horrible . . . I need a drink, I threw my drink across the room, I never got my drink . . . It's the last thing I need though . . . "

"Hey," John shushed her, "I'm okay," he added as he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. He started to rock her from side to side, laying his cheek on her head. Rocking seemed to calm squalling babies down; it might work for frantic, rambling like a lunatic, mature women.

When he felt her calm down a bit, he pulled her towards the bed and sat down leaning against the head board, he stretched his legs out and sat her across his lap. He pulled away and cupped her cheeks in his hands. "Okay now?" he asked as his thumbs wiped away the wetness around the edges of her eyes.

She nodded her head slightly, not looking at him as though she were embarrassed for her actions.

Reassuring her once more that he understood what came over her, he pulled her even closer and kissed her, nipping at her bottom lip. Their kisses grew more demanding, insistent, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket. John slid one palm into her robe and started exploring, barely touching her breasts with his fingertips.

Zoe leaned into John, adjusting her position so that she was almost straddling him. She closed her eyes and was swept away by his leisurely, addicting kisses. Breaking away for a breath, their mouths were only inches apart, staring at each other, communicating without the need for words. John turned his head and tenderly brushed her cheek with his mouth, the shell of her ear, her jaw. Then touching her cheek with his fingertips, he lingered against the line of her cheekbone, glancing his fingers across her temple then finally cupping her jaw.

She turned her mouth into his palm and laid a gentle kiss right in the middle of it, the raw emotion of their tender actions struck a chord deep in her heart. A tear escaped the edge of her eye as she recalled the fear and loss the thought of his death had brought on. She grabbed at his hand once more, wrapped their fingers together and kissed his palm again. He pulled her tight against him, not feeling like he could get close enough, though feeling the thud of her heart.

Like two felines engaged in a greeting ritual, they nuzzled each other. Though they were barely touching each other, it felt as if they were the most intimate they had ever been, as if their souls had come to an understanding. Her lips lightly brushed against his cheek then moved slowly towards his ear.

"I love you," she whispered, as a sense of relief ran through her.

John pulled back, his blue eyes staring intently into hers, assessing the truthfulness and lack of deceit there. Finally finding what he was seeking, he smiled a genuine smile and turned to kiss her again; sealing their bargain.

* * *

Lying in bed in middle of the day felt a bit self-indulgent, yet Finch did say to take the day off. Who was he to argue with his boss? They needed to take advantage of days like today, when there wasn't a number to protect and Zoe basically turned her phone off. They were lying in a confusion of naked limbs tangled and wrapped around each other. She was resting her head on his chest, her hair spread across. She loved him, she had said; saying it without hesitation and he had seen the truth in her eyes. John smiled to himself,  _Can't get any better than this_ , he thought.

There was a slight twitch underneath the sheets that was accompanied by a laugh. "Well," Zoe said, "someone ate their Wheaties this morning." Her hand slid underneath the sheet and gently grabbed a hold. "A lot of Wheaties," she added gazing up at him, her look a combination of trust and mischief.

He rolled over her as she adjusted her legs to make room for him. Slowly, leisurely, he slid into her; her heat encompassing him. He didn't want sex but rather intimacy, relishing it rather than the act of coupling.

"Tell me," he whispered.

Knowing what he wanted, Zoe pulled him into her embrace and whispered in his ear. "I love you, John." She bent her knees and moved her hips slowly to further bring him deeper and closer. He captured her lips with a gentle nip to urge them open, allowing his tongue to meet hers. Their tongues mated and danced and soothed the nips of their teeth. Their movements arduously slow yet heightening their desire.

He broke off to leave a wet trail of kisses, licks, and love bites down the chord at side of her neck to the shell of her ear. "I love you, Zoe," he whispered as they continued the gentle, languid actions of their hips, enjoying the slow burn. Her hands were meandering up and down his muscled back, her fingernails tracing random patterns, then her fingertips soothing the light scratches. This was intimacy, not a carnal act, but intimacy.

Zoe's need to bring him even closer and deeper compelled her to arch her back, her legs moving even higher around his waist, but still he kept his ministrations painstakingly measured, deliberate, and unhurried, much to her exasperation. He wanted to savor this time together because it was so few and far between. Wanting to remember everything about this day, John pulled slightly away so that he could use his hand to memorize her, her breasts, her stomach, her hips, every hill and valley of her delicate body. Her fragility compared to his strength, her softness to his hardness, her curves to his angles; different, yet complimentary.

He amplified the strength propelling his hips forward, the jarring movement of his pelvis against hers bringing her that much closer to completion. Her breath hitched as she pulled herself closer to him, her back coming off the mattress, her chest meeting his. John burrowed his face into her neck, loving her scent and her skin. He laid claim to the steady rhythm of her pulse, bathing it with his tongue and nipping it with his teeth. Showing her how he loved everything about her, the way she moved, the way she made tiny wonderful little noises while he was in her, and the way she felt surrounding him. Wanting her to lose control beyond reason, he aimed to make her fingers that were lovingly roving his back to curve and grip in pleasure.

Zoe's breath caught in expectation as John withdrew just a smidge, her feet instinctively adjusting, wrapping around his calves in anticipation. He pushed back in, keeping the same arduously slow motion yet without letting up on the force. He felt her opening up even more, accepting him as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Spurred on by her sighs and moans of rapture, he pulled back once again then pushed back into her, further and stronger than ever before, feeling the exact moment she began to tighten in pure bliss.

"I love you," he whispered, gliding back and forth, quicker and stronger than seconds before. Gripping her legs even tighter, she brought him closer, her arms coming up and around his back to his shoulders, knowing they were close to release. "I love you, Zoe," he said once more, kissing the curve of her neck and guiding his hand under her rear pulling her even closer and tighter to him.

"John," she complained as he pulled back from her then immediately thrust back, he could feel her hands on his shoulders clutching at him, her nails digging in. She turned to face him as she felt his lips on her cheek; her mouth desperately searching for his. It found its mark and opened allowing his tongue to find hers to tangle together as he drew back and pushed in again, and again, and again sending her further and further to the edge.

Their joined lips separated as they came up for air. Her eyes held onto his as she tangled a hand in his hair, their lips close but not touching, she whispered again, "I love you, John." She arched off the mattress as she felt herself tightening around him, her body realizing the end was near. With a sigh of release she succumbed to her pleasure and ecstasy. Taking one of her hands, he kissed her palm as he commenced the movements that would take him to his release. Again and again he moved closer and closer until with his own growl of release, he too succumbed to his pleasure and ecstasy.

"I love you," he said again, oh so softly, still gasping for breath, "I love you."

They lay silently once again a tangle of limbs as Zoe stroked her fingers up and down John's back, urging their breathing back to a manageable clip. Sighing, he knew that there would never be another moment like this again. It was perfect, and could not be replicated. He was content and happy, feelings he never thought he would be privy to again.

The End


End file.
